Frozen...

I'm frozen.

I've three blog entries started, but paused.  Frozen in thought.  But it is not just that.  I am frozen in body ... nearly.  I am so bloody exhausted that just doing one single thing a day leaves me needing nap after nap after nap.  I cooked ham one night and roast the second night and it took me five days to finish cleaning the kitchen.  Not having visual rest in there drove me crazy and exhausted me further, but there is no one else to clean.  Just me.

I'm frozen.

I'm frozen in my thoughts, unable to move further from the ones that have piled up around me, holding me in places I do not wish to be.  I am frozen because I am completely and utterly overwhelmed.  Some of it is good, but most of it is bad.  I cannot move beyond the moment when my pulomonogist said that we had to shift our treatment thinking from getting better to not getting worse.  From the moment when she said we had to weigh the dangers of the new treatment with the dangers of my symptoms, or rather the progression of them, of the disease.

I cannot move beyond where we've landed in therapy with regard to sexual abuse.  Or where we've landed with regard to PTSD.  Or looking at the enormity of what is happening to my body.

I'm frozen.

I'm frozen in dealing with all the medical issues before me.  The tests and the new diagnoses, both of which are extremely painful.  The many doctor visits and trying to swallow bad news after difficult news after troubling news.  The medications and what some of them mean in taking them.  The costs that are simply more than I have or more than I can squeeze out of my bone dry rag of an income.  Not a single drop can be had, and yet I have new expense after new expense.

I'm frozen.

I'm frozen in fear.  Fear of what is next.  Fear of my own body.  Fear of not being able to remain independent.  Fear of my mind.  Fear of my new mediation.  Fear of my salvation.

I'm frozen.